


It Tickles His Fancy

by WebbedUpKatanas



Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: M/M, That Leads to Sex, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WebbedUpKatanas/pseuds/WebbedUpKatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade finds a weakness, and takes his chance to get one over on Nate. He probably should have expected the inevitable retaliation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It takes a moment when he first wakes up for Wade to realize where he is.

The room is large and bright, and there is sunlight streaming in from a large window. Everything is still and quiet, no tv droning on and on, which means he didn’t fall asleep on the couch again. In fact it’s too clean and smells too nice to be his apartment, and for one frantic moment he considers the possibility that he’s been kidnapped (by clean freaks! The horror!) until he realizes there’s a metal arm hooked around his waist and a very large, very warm body pressed up against his back.

Oh yes, that’s right. He’s in Nate’s bed.

Holy hell. He is in Nate’s bed.

He turns over to inspect the man lying (naked!) behind him, beaming happily at his sleeping form.

Man Nate is attractive. All muscle and metal and soft white hair. He’s the kind of guy Wade would have had a poster of in his bedroom to look at on those long, lonely, hormone fuelled nights (among the swimsuit models of course because hello, boobs are awesome).

This is even better though, because Nate is warm and real, a solid presence with his legs tangled in the sheets as he snores softly, which he will never admit he finds adorable.

It’s nice to be able to not just look (and he’s done a lot of looking), but finally, finally touch as well.

He runs a finger experimentally up Nate’s side, all the way from his hips to just below his armpit. Nate gives a soft grunt, shifting slightly, but thankfully doesn’t wake.

The finger pauses, dithering on the precipice of a pectoral. He could drop down, scale the ridges of rib to skim and skitter down over ab muscles like boulders. And while one was travelling down, it wouldn’t be too suspect if a brave adventurer happened to slip and slide down into rather more dangerous territory now would it?

Wade grins and runs his fingers over Nate’s fleshy half, humming the theme from Indiana Jones all the while. It’s at about the point when the interloping fingers skitter down over Nate’s ribcage that something truly wonderful happens.

There’s a grumble that Wade is certain isn’t his stomach, which means that either there’s a thunderstorm going on outside or…

He lets his fingers dance up the line where metal meets skin and Nate twitches violently, waking up with a snort of all real, 100% genuine laughter. Wade thinks he might explode with devilish glee.

“Wade, what are you doing?” Nate mumbles, still groggy from sleep.

Wade knows he needs to move fast if he wants to take advantage of the miracle that’s landed on his lap, because a groggy Nate is less likely to toss him into the wall so hard they’ll be washing the stains out for month. And after years of living at war he knows it only takes Nate seconds to wake up fully, so this is a now or never kind of deal.

He pounces, straddling him in one fluid motion and attacks, his fingers seeking out soft spots to prod and caress until Nate is struggling desperately against him.

With a wicked smile he goes about mapping the planes of his body to record which places get the best response. The seam between metal and skin seems to be particularly sensitive. The same goes for his stomach and sides.

And, praise all that is holy, Nate actually bellows with laughter, struggling so hard that Wade nearly goes flying off the bed. But he wont let something as minor as a three hundred and fifty pound mass of hard muscle and metal trying his hardest to dislodge him get in the way of his new official favourite activity.

Clamping his thighs around him tightly, he expertly doges and weaves to avoids flying limbs (because ouch, techno-organic metal to the face is never fun. He knows from experience.), tickling Nate until the man beneath him is gasping for breath between bursts of frantic rumbling laughter. The sound is kind of sexy in a way, but the faces Nate makes are so downright hilarious it’s hard to pay attention through his own laughter.

When he finally comes to a standstill Nate is panting, too exhausted from the bout of tickling to properly smash in Wade’s face the way it looks like he wants to.

Wade tries to catch his breath as well, little chuckles still escaping as Nate glares at him.

“Do you mean to tell me, after all these years, that all it would’ve taken to beat you is to pin you down and do this?” Wade asks, getting back to tickling him with one hand while the other holds his arms over his head, and Nate full out bucks, laughing almost hysterically as he squirms beneath him.

Wade doesn’t get to delight in distracting sensation for long before Nate finally comes to his senses and restrains him telekinetically, freeing his own hands in the process.

“No fair!” Wade whines. He’d be more upset if Nate wasn’t still breathing like he’d just run a marathon and fighting back a smile like it’s Apocalypse come to lay siege to his face.

“And ambushing me while I’m sleeping was?” Nate asks dryly.

Wade smiles at him sweetly writhing uselessly in his bonds. “Nah. S’fun to watch you squirm though.”

“You are a terrible person,” Nate tells him, and then they are kissing. He still can’t move an inch, and he really wants to get his hands back on the mutant before him, but even still he’s totally replacing tickling with kissing on his favourite activities list because boy does Nate know what he’s doing.

“Wanna touch you,” he whines when Nate pulls away, letting his lips linger just enough to piss Wade off that he can’t chase them down.

“I think you lost that privilege,” Nate tells him, serenely leaning back against the headboard.

A brief internal battle happens, in which Wade weighs the need to kiss Nate vs his pride.

Ah well, not like he had much pride left anyways.

“Please?” he begs. He gives him his best kicked puppy look complete with wide eyes and pouting lips.

Nate just smirks that damn infuriating smirk and shrugs noncommittally, remaining maddeningly out of reach.

“Pretty please?” Wade tries again. He briefly considers telling him he has to pee, but that excuse never works, and always actually makes him have to pee.

Nate sighs and releases him. It’s less than a second before Wade is on him again, kissing him for all he’s worth, resting his hands in the relatively safe zone of Nate’s hair.

They are both a little breathless by the time he pulls back, but it’s a good look for Nate, all flushed and ruffled from tickling and kissing alike.

If Wades hand just happens to brush down his side in what could possibly be conveyed as a tickling manner, well it’s purely an accident. A blessed blessed accident because Nate goes ahead and giggles! Actually giggles, like the largest, manliest little girl in the history of the world, and it’s truly priceless.

“Don’t make me get out the duct tape,” Nate warns.

He’d do it too, the bastard.

“Okay, okay! I’m done!” Wade protests, holding his hands out in a ‘please do not kill me oh mighty angry giant’ sort of way to sooth him. “Look, I’m getting up, I’m moving away.”

He does, rolling off the bed onto his feet before Nate decides to take revenge. “See, far far away from all your squishy tickley bits.” He shuffles his way down to the foot of the bed while Nate continues to glare at him, although he’s pretty sure this is one of those ‘I am incredibly amused with your adorable antics but I have a big mysterious tough guy facade to maintain’ glares. He’s getting good at reading Nate’s face.

“The whole Island’s going to know about this before noon aren’t they?” Nate asks resignedly, seeming to have accepted his fate.

“What, and give them my newest shiniest secret weapon?” Wade gives him a very pointed look. “No no no. This is all mine. Wouldn’t want anyone else to be able to make you do this,” he says, and attacks his feet, stroking over the sensitive skin on the soles. Nate nearly kicks him in the face struggling against it, but by the time he lunges forward to grab him Wade is already out the door, cackling as he runs for his life down the hall.

“Wade!” Nate roars springing up from the bed, but by the time he reaches the hallway the merc is already long gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now sex and some hard times for poor Irene

Wade is flirting (completely successfully thank you very much, oh doubting reader) with Irene when he first feels it.

Nothing more than a tingle. Easily ignored, and in fact almost unnoticed. He’s too entranced by Irene’s sparkling eyes to pay attention to minor annoyances. He tells her as much, flashing his most charming smile.

When it happens the second time the tingle is more noticeable, brushing featherlight down his side. He scratches at his skin lazily, easily shrugging it off in favour of reaching to kiss miss Merryweather’s hand.

He misses the fourth time. He’s too busy being smacked violently in the head.

It’s the fifth time that clues him in. The sudden sweep of energy down his spine makes him shiver visibly. Luckily Irene doesn’t notice, or if she does she assumes it’s from the downright glacial glare she’s casting in his direction.

It feels… kinda nice actually. Wade really doesn’t mind it much. Soft little strokes of something against his stomach, his thigh, his arms. It’s relaxing in a way.

And then suddenly the tingly good feeling starts to increase, with invisible fingers prodding and caressing every soft sensitive spot he has (of which there aren’t many despite what you may have heard recently. Everyone cries during The Fox and the Hound, so Tasky can just shut his stupid skull mouth and stop spreading it around. Too bad he can’t use his photographic reflexes to gain some empathy, the big heartless jerk).

He squirms awkwardly, cutting off his next witty double entendre to finally focus all of his attention on the sensation. It’s strange to say the least. It almost feels like he’s being.. tickled.

Oh no.

Wade glares around the room suspiciously. He isn’t surprised when his eyes land on just the man he expected to see lurking in the shadows. Nathan Dayspring Askani’son Banana Fana-Fo Summers, in the metal and flesh, looming ominously with his arms crossed and a half smile that promises darkness and doom plastered on his smug face.

This is so unfair.

Wade backs away slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Nate’s impassive face as Irene chatters away at him, probably yelling at him about workplace harassment. He really doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t want to be in this dumb ticklish office anyways.

With a burst of sudden laughter he turns tail and flees as the tickling gets worse, yelling that he has to pee to the beautiful but baffled reporter as he makes a break for it.

He makes it as far as the hallway before he finds himself pinned to the wall. There’s no one holding him up, meaning that in five, four, three, two, one…

“Aren’t you going to wait for me Wade?” Nate asks, moving to stand in front of him like a big evil mountain of muscle and metal and sex appeal. Wade hates him.

“You fiend! You rouge! You complete and utter cad! Unhand me this instant!” he demands angrily. It’s no use though, he knows he’s completely at Nate’s mercy. The thought shouldn’t make his breathing deepen and his stomach flutter, but it does, especially when the man steps forward to lean into his space.

“My hands aren’t anywhere near you,” he points out reasonably as the telekinetic stroking starts back up again softly. Wade twitches but doesn’t laugh or smile. It takes all of his strength but he’s determined to do it out of sheer spite.

“You’re- such a- jerk,” he manages to gasp out, the corners of his mouth starting to turn up without his consent. “And your technique is pitiful. First of all you’re just tickling all willy nilly. It’s like you don’t even know where to touch.”

“And what else am I doing wrong?” Nate asks. He’s so calm that it’s infuriating, and it’s made even more so when the tickling pressure increases, sliding over the inside of his thigh. Then it moves the right side of his neck, and slides down to tease right below his armpit. All of his most ticklish spots, because of course Nate is a know it all show off. Under such an onslaught it’s impossible not to laugh, loudly but angrily until Nate eases the pressure back to a level that gently tingles rather than full out tickles.

“You,” Wade huffs, trying to get his breath back. “You forgot about my scars. Not exactly t-ticklish, what with the deformity and all,” he huffs indignantly, undermining the words when he bursts out in another attack of giggles. It’s sort of a low blow guilt tripping Nate, but there’s no real malice behind the words. He’s feeling too energized from all the tingling and tickling to really care beyond trying to fluster Nate.

Which is why, of course, the other man takes him completely seriously.

Nate shakes his head, looking far too solemn for a man currently engaged in a tickle war.

“When your scars are newer they’re more sensitive. You always flinch more when I touch you just after they change position on your skin. The older whiter ones seem to have less feeling, but the red ones vary. I know they hurt you more, but they also seem to give you more pleasure when I touch you and use my mouth on them. Otherwise the skin around them is as sensitive as any other person’s,” Nate tells him, running a hand down the exposed flesh of Wade’s arm slowly as he speaks.

The earlier tickling has left Wade feeling strange and over-sensitized, sending a thrill through each nerve and making him buck against his hold as a weak chuckle escapes.

He’s a little bit terrified to tell the truth. Nate is staring at him, and even his glowing eye looks intensely focused somehow. The fact that he’s focused on Wade in all his imperfect glory is mildly panic inducing.

“It’s all about varying degrees of pressure, and knowing how to apply them,” Nate’s voice rumbles. He’s so close now that Wade can feel the heat coming off of his body.

“I… you… uh that’s…” Wade squirms again as Nate’s hands trace up under his shirt, gently tickling him as they brush over his skin. “You’re a bit of a creep aren’t you?”

Nate chuckles, a warm pleased sound and begins to touch him in all the same places he’s just tickled with his telekinesis. It feels even better, or maybe worse, now that it’s Nate’s hands testing out different pressures and motions to see which ones make Wade howl the loudest.

By the time Nate is done with him he can barely breathe and Nate is laughing too, a sight which just makes the breathlessness worse but in a very different way.

“We should take this somewhere else,” he says, trying and definitely failing to sound sexy as he stutters the words through a wheezing laugh. Nate quirks an inquisitive eyebrow, the smile still lingering on his face.

“You know… so we can do the horizontal tango?” Wade tries again.

Nate looks amused, especially when his eyes trail down Wade’s body to survey the reaction to all the tickling that has happened in Wade’s pants.

“So… tickling?” he asks, and Wade blushes, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour.

“So I get a little hard when a handsome guy pins me to a wall and touches me… sue me,” he tries to reason. Instead of letting it go Nate decides to press himself up against him and trail his fingers over the soft skin of Wade’s neck, making him wriggle and bleat out a surprised laugh.

“Judging from the way your cock just twitched against my thigh I’m going to say it’s the tickling,” Nate smirks at him, quickly replacing his hand with his tongue and lips against Wade’s neck.

“Shut up,” Wade moans. “Bodyslide?”

“There’s a door about two meters away… you think you can make it?”

Wade considers this for a moment. “Huh. Kinky,” he finally says with a devilish grin. “What if Irene comes to investigate all that laughter? You looking to put on a show or something? Because I’d be so okay with that.”

Finding himself free from the wall he rolls, pinning Nate there instead and kissing him deeply, rubbing the length of his body against him with a quiet moan. The tickling has left every inch of his skin buzzing, feeling good and almost pain-free which is quite the accomplishment. Nate moans back, rolling them once more to shove Wade back against the wall hard, letting his hands wander to stroke every part of Wade he can reach.

They make their way slowly until, two more rolls and a steamy make out later, they hit the door. Nate opens it behind him and Wade tugs him in eagerly.

“Is this actually a janitor’s closet?!” Wade asks gleefully, almost tripping over a mop as they tumble in. Nate closes the door with a thought, and after a brief but intense battle with the aforementioned mop Wade pushes him up against the wall again and gets down to kissing him senseless once more.

“When I was a kid I used to dream about blowing someone in one of these,” Wade sighs dreamily. “Or uh, I mean getting blown in one…” he corrects quickly before remembering who exactly he’s in the closet with. Or out of the closet with. Considering some of the things he and Nate have done up to this point, wanting to blow him is practically tame.

“When in Rome,” Wade smirks, sinking to his knees. He takes his time, making sure to trace his fingers along Nate’s thighs in a parody of the tickling from earlier.

But it’s difficult to focus on tickling when Nate’s cock is right there, already rock hard and pressed uncomfortably against his pants. And since Wade is a nice guy he helps him out, freeing it like the caring humanitarian he is.

And while it’s out it can’t hurt to take a taste.

Wade’s licks the hard length a few times, torturously slowly from his balls up to the tip, where he lingers for a little longer with each pass. Nate leans back against the wall, one hand coming to rest on the back of Wade’s head, gripping tight as he scrapes his teeth lightly over the sensitive head of his cock before slipping it into his mouth.

Wade has it on good authority that his mouth is something special. Really. Not only good for talking and eating. Oh no, it has many wild and wonderful uses. Like sliding slick and slow down Nate’s erection with just the barest hint of suction to really get things going. Wade truly considers himself a connoisseur of cock sucking.

Nate agrees in that sweet way he has, moaning with his eyes squeezed shut, a filthy low sound that makes Wade’s blood pulse and his heart beat hard in his chest.

With as much of a grin as he can manage around the length in his mouth Wade gets to work, licking at him with ticklish little flicks of his tongue in a form of pleasurable retaliation.

Nate really doesn’t seem to mind.

He pulls off to tease his tongue along Nate’s balls as he pumps his cock in his hand, earning him a low pleased sound.

Really, Wade can’t imagine it getting any better than this.

 

……..

 

Irene Merryweather is tired and feeling haggard and harassed. Unfortunately that’s what passes for regular Tuesday morning on Providence.

At least when Wade leaves in a hurry she assumes her day is about to take a turn for the better, mistakenly believing she’ll get some peace and quiet finally. But that plan flies south the moment she sees Nate chase after him out the door.

Viciously she clamps down the flare of jealousy that erupts in her chest at the sight. The look on Nate’s face had left little room to imagine that his intentions were innocent.

She sighs and tries to get back to work, steadfastly ignoring the sounds of shouting and laughter that echo down the hallway. It’s much harder to ignore the sudden silence, especially when she knows exactly what must be happening to cause it.

Thankfully after a few silent minutes the two men appear to have moved on. Probably did a bodyslide back to Nate’s room. Maybe straight onto the bed.

Oddly, she finds the visions her imagination supplies her with disturbingly arousing despite the searing jealousy. Shifting in her chair she tries to focus on the computer screen instead of the images of Nate and Wade rolling around on his big bed… probably already naked by now and sweating… kissing and writhing together as they…

Irene jerks backwards in her chair, knocking her coffee off of the desk.

“Shit.”

She shakes her head, surveying the damage. She really needs to stop hanging around Wade, she’s going as crazy as he is… Thinking about those two together should make her feel sick not leave her needing a cold shower.

Sighing again as she heads out into the hallway. For a room that often suffers random visits from Deadpool there aren’t many cleaning supplies to be found. She’s pretty sure there’s some paper towel in the supply closet though…

………

 

“I think she blew out my eardrums with all that screaming,” Wade whimpers, grabbing onto Nate’s arms to haul himself up to his feet.

Nate doesn’t answer. He’s too busy catching his breath as he tucks his spent cock back into his pants. Luckily for him Wade doesn’t need audience participation to keep a conversation going.

“I notice you kept on going,” Wade continues with a sly glance.

Nate manages to chuckle weakly at that. “You did say you wanted to put on a show…”

“Did you… on purpose? No. Not even you are that cruel. Although, shouldn’t you have heard her coming? You know… in your brain?”

“I was a little distracted,” Nate replies amicably. “And speaking of distractions…”

Wade follows Nate’s eyes down to where his erection is straining against the red spandex. “I’ve been thinking…” Wade replies, letting a hand wander down to tease at his own cock, watching Nate watch him in rapt fascination. “There are a few places I think you might like to try tickling that you missed before,” he grins, shivering slightly when Nate licks his lips.

He’s thankful that the blow job was short (ha Nate really really likes exhibitionism. Noted and filed away for later abuse) because his skin is still feeling electrified as Nate runs his hand gently down his sides to pull him in close.

“Bodyslide by two,” he whispers, and presses their lips together. And as the closet around them fades and the dizzying blur of the bodyslide begins Wade can’t help but think that the sensation kind of tickles.


End file.
